The Looking Glass
by Jake Caldefore
Summary: Slight AU. Alex and Jack are in California when the find themselves in the middle of an earthquake. Therapy is required. Hospitalization is mandatory. Schools may be involved. Scrubs crossover. No information about the show is needed to understand.
1. Struck

Hey guys! I'm sorry for starting a new story, but the plot bunnies were after me! Plus, i have REALLY GREAT IDEAS for this story! (Especially for a Danny phantom crossover...)

Hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer:

* * *

The ground rumbled and shook, and Alex jerked his head up and glanced at Jack. She looked back at him warily, tense. She had felt the shock too.

The floor was shaking more violently now, debris falling from the ceiling and chair and tables clattering away. The unwashed plates piled on counter were smashed to bits on the hard linoleum tile below. Books were falling out of their cases, and they could hear loud creaking sounds from above and below. The house would collapse soon.

Jack mouthed a word to Alex, and they both dove under tables for cover.

Earthquake.

Jack made it safely under a heavy metal desk, but Alex was not as lucky. Just as he was about to fling himself to another table, the building shook with such a tremendous force that he lost his balance and crashed to the floor as the building's supports fell.

From where Jack was, she could see nothing. She felt herself plummeting through the floor, clouds of dust welling up around them, coating everything in chalky white dust. She could not tell if Alex was okay.

She felt the impact, and her vision flickered, and then died out just as the ground stopped shaking.

Alex, meanwhile, was on the verge into falling into the black pit of unconsciousness. His right leg was trapped under some large, heavy sections of drywall and broken pieces of fallen debris. He could feel the pain from the fall and the weight, and he was absolutely positive that the bones in his leg had snapped and punctured through the skin.

He clenched his teeth as the pain flared up, died down, only to return mere moments later, lancing up his leg and jolting through his whole body. It felt like a white-hot knife cutting through his skin and down to the bone.

"Jack…Jack…" he called hoarsely, after the pain lessened a bit. He received no answer.

Nearby, he spied a small heap of ripped books and made a grab for one. The pain flared up again, and he decided against it. So he lay back, falling into a deep and troubled sleep, wondering if Jack was okay and when the paramedics would come.

* * *

Alex jolted awake in complete agony. His leg felt like it was on fire.

He clenched his teeth, careful not to bite his tongue, and bit back a hoarse scream. He distantly saw what had woken him up from his painful slumber. His vision was clouded and blurry, but he figured out what he was staring at.

A helicopter. Help had finally arrived.

He saw some figures dropping to the ground with a stretcher and some were speaking loudly into walkie-talkies. Some ambulances were scattered around the rubble, paramedics swarming around, trying to find survivors.

"Help…help…somebody please…help…" he called, but all that came out was a weak croak.

He shut his eyes. Delirious, he had no clue how much time had passed when someone finally came looking his way. The agony caused by his leg and other parts of his body was a major barrier between talking in complete, understandable sentences, and muttering incoherently.

"Hey guys! I found someone over here! Get some medics! Hurry! He's trapped and he's lost a lot of blood."

Alex blearily opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a man in a beige vest labeled "Andrew" with camouflage pants holding a water bottle and carrying a small backpack.

"Hey son, can you talk? Can you say something?"

Alex closed his eyes once more and his head lolled to one side. He was too tired…too tired…

He mumbled and groaned.

The man leaned closer as some of his team members came scurrying over, one carrying a laptop.

He was still squatting by Alex when they arrived, and he had a perplexed expression on his face.

"Jeremy, come listen to this…" he called to a man with a shovel.

The said man hurried over, careful not to tread over Alex or on smaller pieces of rubble, and squatting next to Andrew. He leaned in, turning his head to press his ear closer to the young boy's mouth, and strained to catch sounds. Other team members were hooking up IV bags and putting pressure to large wounds to Alex's prone body.

Andrew meanwhile, called the man with the laptop over.

"Jonathan, come here. We might need to record this."

Suddenly the man – Jeremy – jerked his head back and whipped it around so quickly that Andrew feared he might've had a whiplash injury.

"Did you find out what he said?"

The man furrowed his brow and frowned, saying, "Yeah, but he keeps mumbling the words 'key,' 'pocket' and 'terminate' over and over again. And he repeats the same number too. '9503279.'"

Suddenly the man with the IV bag piped up, "Hey, aren't the numbers '950' the heading for MISO? You can do a run on him and see what comes up."

Andrew glared as Jonathan's fingers flew across the keyboard. Light reflected off his glasses. "How can a kid be working for MISO? I doubt that he's even 16 yet."

"Maybe his father was in the secret service…" he shrugged and gave up.

Jonathan yelped in surprise. Everyone turned to him. He said, "There's a whole file and everything! It's all about the kid. Missions, attributes, age, name…it's all here!"

"Give me that…" Andrew grumbled, and spat at Jonathan to help nurse the boy back to health.

Andrew's sharp eyes scanned the page. He read aloud:

"Name: Rider, Alexander J.

Eye colour: brown

Hair colour: fair

Age: 14

Family: --

DoB: --

Current status: --

Current location: --

Missions/Accomplishments: --

Past injuries: --

--: Information not valid without key AND password(s)."

Everyone stared and gaped in shock. He had a file, and a very high file. So guarded that it needed more than a key! That was new.

Alex kept mumbling, but was a bit louder this time.

"9503279…key…pocket…terminate…terminate…key…950…3279…pocket…"

Jeremy snapped his fingers and said, "He must be keeping his key in his pocket!" He searched Alex's clothes until he felt a small, rectangular plastic material in his sweatshirt. "Aha!" he cried, and dug it out. It was simple: a barcode on the side with some fine-print numbers. No other text except for the words "JAPANESE MISO SOUP" printed on the front.

Jeremy wordlessly handed the card to Andrew, who in turn stuck the card into a flap on the side of the laptop. A few tedious seconds later, a small light flickered on and a window popped on the screen.

"Access granted. Please type the security code on the card into the box below," it read.

Andrew squinted at the plastic card, and typed in the numbers. Soon, another window popped up.

"Terminate status? Yes – No"

He looked warily around at his team members. He didn't want to get binned, of course, but the boy looked so beat and tired…He was _dying_, dammit! Why couldn't he think straight? He made eye contact with each of his members, and they all game him dignified nods.

So be it.

He clicked on the button that read "yes," and waited for something to happen, something to indicate that it worked.

Nothing.

As he was just about to cry out in total and utter frustration, Jeremy and Jonathan were hollering at Andrew to get help from someone with a saw.

"Why? Is it too heavy to lift?"

The team nodded in unison, and Andrew scurried off to find someone with a chainsaw.

* * *

A few precious minutes later, Andrew came back, only to find the crew and some other men and women to be hard at work to get the boy conscious again. They had hooked up a small portable heart monitor, and the beats were fast and erratic. The teen was pale and shaking visibly, muttering incoherently under his breath, though still unconscious.

He leaped over and was just about to start cutting through the pile of rubble, when a fairly young woman stopped him. She called, "Andrew, is it? We need help over here! I also need to talk to you about something." Her words were rushed and jumbled up. She wiped a grimy hand over her forehead.

As Andrew made his way over to her, she started to talk quickly and quietly, as not to distract the team members, but also too get her words out quickly.

"He's gone into shock, and he's losing blood fast. His leg is trapped under segments of walls that are too heavy for us to get it out in time. Even with a larger crew, I don't think that we'd be able to clear the rubble off of him in time If we don't get him to a hospital fast, he's might go into cardiac arrest. We can't risk that happening – "

"Cut the crap. What do we do to get him safely back home?"

The woman flicked a glance at the young boy lying, almost dead, on piles of terror and destruction. Emotions flickered on her face, full of sympathy, sorrow, and fear. She really cared for lives of those lost beneath the carnage. She looked back at Andrew and cleared her throat before speaking again.

"We'll have to amputate his leg."

* * *

Review?


	2. Phantom Limb

SCRUBS!

Anyways, now I'll have to do _double disclaimers._ GAH!

Tell me what you think, okay? Questions are always welcome!

Go easy on the constructive criticism, I'm a sensi…

SLIGHT AU.

Disclaimer: Do not own! No Scrubs, Alex Rider.

_Writing._

* * *

Alex woke to the sound of a door clicking open. He blearily opened his eyes. He felt oddly numb. He couldn't feel any _real _pain except for his pounding headache.

Blinking against the harsh white light, he saw that he was indeed back in the hospital. And an earthquake, he reminded himself. Not angry madmen trying to shoot me.

"Hi, I'm Nurse Espinoza, but you can call me Carla, okay?"

Alex sleepily nodded against the pillow and let his eyes close once more as he heard the metal scraping of a chair along linoleum tiling and a thump as the woman sat down in the chair. He could hear her dragging it up to his bed, and felt her resting her elbows on top of the blankets.

"So…what's your name?"

Alex looked at her for a moment, drinking in her appearance. A Latino woman, with curly brown hair that fell over her shoulders. A purple nurse's outfit and an ID badge clipped to the breast pocket. He vaguely noticed her stone necklace before turning his head away.

"Alex…" he coughed.

"Do you want some water, sweetie? Your throat must be so parched."

"Yes…please…" he closed his eyes as she filled a cup with water from a pitcher that stood nearby on a nightstand. He felt her tap his shoulder and he gladly received the cup she handed him.

Drinking deeply, he let the cool and refreshing water slip down his throat and listened as she talked.

"You're in Sacred Heart Hospital. You were in an earthquake, a couple miles from here. (1) Was there anyone with you?"

Alex nodded mutely, still digesting the information. An earthquake? Is that what had happened?

Probably.

"Can you tell me? Was it your mom? Your dad?"

"Jack…"

"Is Jack your dad, sweetie? C'mon, keep your eyes open, don't fall asleep yet…"

"Jack…" Alex moaned louder, twisting under the bed sheets. "She's my…my guardian… Jack…Starbright…" All the while, he managed to keep an American accent in his voice. _MI6 does that to you_, he thought bitterly. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes.

Without warning, a man opened stepped in the room. He was tall, with curly, light brown hair covering his head. He had a weathered look to his face, and a dangerous gleam in his gray-blue eyes. He wore a stretched blue shirt, with a white doctor's coat thrown hastily over it. He sported a stethoscope, hanging around his neck.

The nurse gave him a small smile, and turned back to Alex. "This is Dr. Cox. He's going to take care of you, okay? I'll check back on you later."

With that, she strode out of the room without another glance. All the while, Alex was staring into the man's eyes. He stared back.

Suddenly, the man's face broke into a grin, and promptly said, "You sure are a toughie, aren't you, kid?" Alex didn't break eye contact.

The door behind Dr. Cox opened and a young petite woman, who was up to about Dr. Cox's chin, came scurrying in. She had long, blonde hair that came down in waves over her shoulders. She was wearing a crisp, brown dress with a lab coat on top, like Dr. Cox. Stitched into her coat in blue thread read, "Elliot Reid, M.D."

Without looking away, Dr. Cox held up a hand and said, "Barbie, give me a moment and spare me from your yapper. I'm busy."

Almost immediately, another doctor came in. He was tall, lanky, and had pale skin that set off his shocking dark blackish-brown hair. His electric blue eyes glanced at him, just as he stumbled clumsily over the older doctor's foot. (2)

"Melissa, exactly _what_ are you supposed to say when you trip on my foot?"

"Sorry, Dr. Cox. It's just that this room's sort of crowded and –" he mumbled, before getting cut off.

Dr. Cox turned to the younger doctor, ignoring the blonde who huffed, and wagged a finger, stating, "Look here, Patty. I don't know _what_ you're thinking, and I don't particularly want to know, but I _do_ know that you haven't learned that I don't want to hear any more words flying out of your mouth. Just _how_ do you not understand?"

Just as he made a whining noise at the end, he promptly turned, opened the door, and left.

Silence. Alex glanced uneasily at the two doctors that were left standing in the room. The sleeping medication was starting to wear off.

"So…I'm Dr. Dorian, but you can call me JD. And this is –"

"Dr. Reid, but call me Elliot," she cut in.

They grinned awkwardly at him, then mumbled to themselves about checking on their respective patients, and they scurried out of the room, both tripping in the process.

Alex was left thoroughly confused in his bed.

* * *

After two days, Alex learned the names of some of the staff at Sacred Heart. Chris Turk, a surgeon, JD's friend and Carla's husband. Robert "Bob" Kelso, the Chief of Medicine, apparently the Devil himself. Ted Buckland, the sad-sack lawyer. Laverne Roberts, a nurse, friend of Carla's, and believer of Jesus, which was apparently quite funny.

Alex lay back in bed, zoning out. He still felt numb from the painkillers and whatnot. How people got high on the stuff, he didn't know.

Ready to dose off again, JD suddenly scurried into the room, tripping over his own foot and crashing onto Alex's bed. Alex's eyes widened in shock, not because JD had fallen on him, but because there was nothing below his right knee.

At that moment, Dr. Cox unfortunately showed up. In truth, Alex didn't really mind Dr. Cox, but they seemed to out each other with sarcastic remarks.

Dr. Cox grinned, chuckling, "Oh, I didn't think that you'd like the kid enough to actually _molest_ him! I mean, really, _way to go_."

He half expected Alex to retort something along the lines of, "If anything, _you're _the pedophile, sneaking up on me while I was in the bathroom, bastard."

Surprisingly, Alex said nothing, just stared forlornly at his hands he cradled in his lap.

"Aw, what's wrong, do you miss the other half of your leg?"

That got him. Alex looked up at the man, but instead of seeing hot fury in his gaze, Dr. Cox saw a tired, lost stare that bored into him. Obviously the kid had had worse before in his life.

Dr. Cox awkwardly cleared his throat and left the room, but not before telling him that he'd send Carla over to talk with him.

True to his word, a couple minutes later Carla walked into the room, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Hey Alex. Want to talk?"

Alex chocked on his words. He couldn't speak. He was still shocked from losing his leg. So instead, he grabbed a small notepad off the nightstand and motioned for a pen from the nurse.

_Why didn't you tell me earlier?_

She read the note, then sighed, "Amputees usually have a hard time coping with the loss of their limb. If we told you, it'd probably be worse… Sorry, honey, I just wanted you to find out yourself."

Alex snorted angrily, but it didn't reach his eyes. He bowed his head and inspected the cast wrapped around his left arm, picking at the hard, outer covering.

Carla sighed, watching the obviously distressed boy as he fidgeted and picked at the crisp, white bandages that were wrapped around his arm and torso.

Carla patted him sympathetically on his good shoulder, and left the room, heading back to the nurse's station in the hall.

* * *

When she got there, she was immediately greeted by Laverne (3) who was, once again, talking on the phone, but for once, she looked serious. Jotting down words on a Post-it Note, she handed the message to Carla.

_We just found Alex Rider's medical file._

Confused, Carla asked, "Then why are you on the phone?" She waited for the written answer.

_Requires 'Level 3 clearance.' Whatever the Hell _that _means. Some government thing. I'm trying to get access to the file._

Carla raised an eyebrow, intrigued. So Alex was more of a mystery than anyone had originally thought…

Her train of thought was broken when Laverne hung up the phone.

"Did you get the file?"

"Yes. It's still processing."

The conversation ended when the phone started ringing again. Laverne rolled her eyes and picked it up again, with the customary Sacred Heart greeting.

"Mmhmm… yes, we've got him here… Then bring her on in! We've been hard at work over here, y'know… Thank you."

Laverne put the phone down and turned to Carla and said, "We've found Jack Starbright."

* * *

(1) You do realize that no one knows where Sacred Heart is?

(2) I was looking at a picture for reference, ('cause my memory's so bad) and my sister walked in on me and then she was all like, "Oh my God! You're gay!"

I'M NOT GAY!

(3) I'm probably not going to do thorough descriptions 'cause they take to long, and you can always find them on the web. Plus, people who already kind of know Scrubs will be bored.

Clifffffhangerrrrr!

Easy on con-crit! (Get it? Like, CON-CRETE?) I'm a sensi!

**Question: Should Jack die?  
**


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